Star Force: Mak'to'ran (5)

by Aer-ki Jyr

  “Itaru authorized it,” another Voro’nam on the bridge said with anger in her voice. “They’re ordering all rebel ships to be targeted and destroyed.”

  Mextre turned on her as if she was insane. “What did you say?”

  “We’re ordered to fight and destroy any vessel disobeying Itaru’s command. They’re sanctioning it as an immediate cull.”

  “Not just that,” another Voro’nam said, still studying comm data coming in. “They’re launching purging attacks on the surface. Some of the planetary defense stations are refusing to comply.”

  “What is happening?” he asked, aghast.

  “We’re being queried by Wendigama as to our status.”

  “So we either kill our brothers or be killed?” he roared. “What madness is this?”

  “I don’t think we have much time to decide. The other ships are realigning on attack vectors for the nearest rebel fleet.”

  Mextre looked at the display holograms as the system lit up in combat everywhere, with most of the ships fleeing from planetary orbit to avoid the surface defenses, but some did not and moved into regions where the rebels apparently held control with the curved mass of the planet blocking the firing lines from the other weapons emplacements.

  “This is a full blown civil war,” he said with disgust.

  “Join with us,” a Zen’zat said from behind him, prompting Mextre and the others to turn and look at him curiously, though there was lethal intent in some of their eyes. “We have to stop this before we are all destroyed.”

  “Who is us?” Mextre demanded.

  “Zen’zat are loyal to our oaths to serve the V’kit’no’sat, and the V’kit’no’sat exist to fight the Hadarak. If Itaru does not wish to honor that oath then we will serve those that will. Help us stop this carnage before it goes even further. Itaru is the one that began this, we are only…”

  The Zen’zat didn’t finish speaking, for Mextre lifted him up telekinetically two meters off the floor then the Voro’nam flipped his tail around so fast that he hit and drove the Zen’zat across the command deck into a low wall where an audible snap was heard.

  “Do not speak to me, traitor!” Mextre said, walking over to the Zen’zat who was crawling a few meters with an apparently broken back and no armored gauntlets on to protect him. “You are the cause of this insanity.”

  Mextre stood over him and raised up his foot, then sent it smashing down on the Zen’zat’s head even as the tiny biped tried to use his own Lachka to block it, but the pathetic strength in his body wasn’t enough and the Voro’nam felt the skull crack and his head squish underneath his weight. He twisted his foot and ground it into the deck as he looked at the rest of the Zen’zat cowering near their stations or the exits.

  “Kill them all,” he ordered. “We cannot take any chances.”

  “No,” another Voro’nam said, stepping forward before the crew could act on his order. “He was right. Itaru is to blame for this.”

  “This carnage is upon us,” Mextre all but growled. “It cannot be stopped now. We must choose our side, and the Voro’nam will not side with the rebels.”

  “You just saw Wendigama shoot one of our own ships!”

  “I do not know what happened there, but our loyalty is clear. We are V’kit’no’sat and the Elder Conclave decides for us. They have decreed the rebels must die, and these Zen’zat are most likely all corrupted.”

  “If you want to destroy them, you will have to go through me,” the other Voro’nam said, activating the armor that he wore despite being on bridge duty. Mextre had none, but two others on the bridge did.

  “Take him,” he ordered, with both activating their armor and moving against the rebel sympathizer.

  But they never got to him. All the Zen’zat bolted, those with armor activating it and attacking while other Voro’nam crew members rammed the two guards into the walls as the other slipped by and got to Mextre. Fighting against an armored opponent when you had none was not good, but Mextre was stronger than all on the bridge so he didn’t back down. The two collided, butting heads and grappling with their psionics for a moment before multiple stun blasts hit Mextre at pointblank range and rendered him unconscious.

  The defender of the Zen’zat spun and went after the other two armored ones as they shot the rest of the bridge crew helping him…but not with stun weapons. They delivered lethal shots as the Zen’zat jumped on their backs and fired their tiny weapons into their shields, attempting to at least distract the larger V’kit’no’sat enough to spare the loyal ones a few hits.

  The defender got to them as quickly as possible and took them both on in a battle that wrecked the command deck for the next 7 minutes, but ultimately left all three with broken armor and visible wounds, but he accomplished enough damage that the Zen’zat were able to finish off the traitors as more of the tiny bipeds appeared on the bridge in full armor while others came carrying regenerators that they immediately applied to the wounded and dead Voro’nam, trying to save them before they passed beyond recovery as the rest of the ship began to hear what was going on.

  Fortunately the Zen’zat had taken control of communications, and with the help of the loyal Voro’nam they swayed most of the crew who fought the others in a lopsided internal battle that ended as soon as the ship came under attack from an Itaru-allied fleet that had apparently taken their lack of action to be a sign of disobedience.

  A few of those fighting inside stopped when it became clear that they were under attack, but there was so much space inside the 36-mile long dreadnaught that some areas didn’t even hear the weaponsfire when it began to penetrate the shields and hit the hull. Deck after deck was cored, losing atmosphere as the Kafcha was surrounded and unable to flee. As any good V’kit’no’sat would, the Voro’nam ship fought back and did considerable damage to the smaller vessels surrounding them, but their previously flanking Voro’nam Kafcha were no longer here to defend them. They had been deployed elsewhere while a fleet of Itaru-loyal vessels not of Voro’nam ownership hammered the vessel whose only crime was sitting still in orbit and not doing anything.

  Eventually the internal fight was won, but it was a moot point as deck after deck was ravaged from the exterior and the Kafcha was eventually destroyed, then pummeled to the point where there would be no survivors left to recover. After that task was done the hunter fleet move to another rebellious vessel that was refusing to choose sides and carried out the same one-sided battle as Itaru burned with conflict and the Elder Conclave saw fit to make sure that there would be no mixed loyalties remaining when this came to a conclusion. There could be no dissention tolerated. You were either fully behind Itaru or against it…and if against it, you were going to be exterminated.

  Four Sess’nat swam to the ocean floor on Itaru, with their shell-less, turtle-like bodies forcefully pushing through the deep water in the utmost urgency to get to the reclusive domicile of one of the eldest Sess’nat that had little contact with even his own race. Save for a few peculiarities, he shunned contact with the outside world and kept to himself…doing what no one knew, but given the current situation these Sess’nat were going to breach his privacy and demand that he take action.

  When they approached they were met with no security devices. No sensors, no locks, no weaponry. They swam in through the short tunnel that was open to the sea water save for a filtering energy field that they passed through harmlessly as they sought out Da’bran with their Ikrid in as respectful a manner as they could.

  They couldn’t sense his presence and swam through half his large domicile before he appeared in mind’s eye, coming out of an enclosure that must have been psionically shielded. When he did, his mass surprised the younglings. They knew that he was a Sor’ku variant, but they had never seen one so large. Their race had four variants, with these interlopers belonging to the Ha’vi and Uen groups, but what that meant was little more than some physical differences regarding their neck length and body shape.

  Da’bran gently floate
d out into the large, secondary chamber and looked at the four calmly, sensing their fear at the unannounced entry.

  “Da’bran, we apologize,” one of them said, using his voice rather than telepathy as an act of contrition, sending sound waves out from pouches on his face that reverberated separately from his mouth. “We had no choice. Itaru is in flames. V’kit’no’sat are fighting V’kit’no’sat and not along racial lines. We beg your help to stop this.”

  “And how do you think I can stop it?” he asked slowly, regarding the other Sess’nat as if they were hatchings.

  “Your influence must still count for something…no matter how little sanity there is left.”

  “The irrational do not listen to counsel.”

  “For our own race,” another pleaded. “We cannot be fighting one another. Command them to stand down. We beg you.”

  “You would have me defy the orders of Itaru?”

  “Itaru has betrayed us.”

  “So Mak’to’ran was correct?”

  “I do not know…”

  “Yes,” another said. “They are fighting the Hadarak, and when some here sought to go help them Itaru ordered them stopped. They fired Tar’vem’jic at the gathering ships who had done nothing other than state their intention to fight the Hadarak. Itaru sees only its own authority. They will sacrifice the galaxy to the Hadarak to maintain it.”

  Da’gran sighed, blowing out tiny air bubbles from the gills that ran the length of his neck in a gesture of annoyance. “So be it. Why you can’t maintain our race without my constant intervention is beyond me.”

  “Thank you, Elder,” the last of them said, with all offering telepathic echoings of that statement.

  “Hatchlings,” Da’gran muttered as he swam past them forcefully and made his way outside while mentally interacting with his domicile’s systems. Before he made it halfway to the surface a ship appeared, coming up from below and opening its hatches for him to swim inside. He left the others behind without so much as a word as the aquatic warship’s crew made space for him in the command deck.

  There was no talking as Da’gran assumed control of the ship, making it his impromptu headquarters as others nearby in the ocean gathered to him, forming a flotilla that no one in their right mind would assault from underwater as he reached out to nearby cities and races, using his long held influence to bring them to heel and stop some of the fighting that had already occurred. He cited that he was not acting on behalf of the rebels or Itaru, but that this nonsense had gone on long enough and that he was asserting his own authority over the ‘hatchlings’ that had proven themselves unfit to bear the name V’kit’no’sat.

  Wendigama had 3 oceans of moderate size connected by wide, artificial channels but he knew not to go there. Da’gran stayed deep in the water and made heavy use of the comm channels, finding…as he suspected…a myriad of aquatics not having a clue what they should do and waiting for even the most meager display of leadership to rally to. He provided more than that and quickly got Wendigama’s oceans under his personal command even as the Elder Conclave…or what was left of it after many representatives walked out…ordered him to submit to their authority or be destroyed.

  Da’gran laughed at them and cut the comm channel, then began powering up the heavy defenses spread across the oceans, ready to shoot down the first ship foolish enough to try and enforce that shortsighted order.

  8

  July 9, 3695

  Iesclak System (Hadarak Front)

  Stellar Orbit

  Mak’to’ran’s Kafcha fired on the smaller of the two Hadarak along with over 50,000 other warships as it traveled across the system, fleeing the planet it had been on and racing towards the safety of the star as the V’kit’no’sat fleet continued to pour firepower into several select regions on its surface that had previously been breached. Shooting anywhere else was a waste of time and he held all ships in his command to strict firing orders that he himself was entering into the fleet combat systems. They had to do more damage before it got to the star, otherwise it would sink beneath the surface and out of their range to kill it.

  He knew they weren’t going to be able to kill it before it got there, but he wanted it so damaged it wouldn’t come out again for months. Sadly, the internal structure of the Hadarak wasn’t vulnerable to the pressure and star’s radiative danger…rather the reverse. They liked the pressure and energy and both would stoke the Hadarak’s insanely fast regeneration, limited only by the natural resources it had available. Many things could be found within stars, but there was a reason the Hadarak landed and consumed planets, and it was a question of how many resources it had already soaked up that would determine the extent of its repairs here.

  Mak’to’ran watched as the beams hit the wounded areas and did little damage. Even the internal structure was resistant to weaponsfire…but not as much as their thick ‘skin,’ with each shot landing in the targeted zones doing 7 times as much damage as a hit on the armored exterior. That was still pathetically small compared to how effective the V’kit’no’sat’s weaponry was against the minions and Mak’to’ran needed to throw as much destructive energy into the tier 1 Hadarak even as reinforcements from the tier 3 raced across the system to help defend it.

  Mak’to’ran’s fleet was peeling the necessary ships off to intercept the minions, and without the Hadarak following to back them up Mak’to’ran wasn’t worried. They could do damage on their own, but their main threat was in slowing down his ships enough for the kill blows to follow. Right now the tier 3 was still on its planet and exponentially expanding its influence there beyond Mak’to’ran’s ability to confront. The planet was lost but it was still going to have to be contested, else the Hadarak would move on to its next planet sooner rather than later…but right now it was the vulnerable, smaller Hadarak that he knew he had to punish as much as possible. Such opportunities did not present themselves often.

  During the chase he received a message through the Urrtren that he ignored, but after the wounded tier 1 Hadarak finally limped to a splashing entry into the star and escaped the V’kit’no’sat guns, he got back to it as his subordinate commanders handled the contact with the minion swarms following them that were doomed to die with no support. The Hadarak rarely recalled such attacks, choosing instead to take the time their deaths bought to grow more to replace them.

  Mak’to’ran’s leadership wasn’t needed for this smaller fight, so he brought up the message from Hamob and played it out in full, seeing the updated intelligence reports and the elder Era’tran’s insistence that he return immediately. His first gut instinct was to ignore such a cowardly suggestion, but Hamob had sent his reasons along with the information so Mak’to’ran could judge for himself.

  It seemed there was some amount of fighting going on in Itaru and spreading to a few other systems aligned with them, and Hamob’s contacts were begging for help as well as warning the reforged V’kit’no’sat of an attack en mass against their now lightly defended systems. The fighting in Itaru was meant to stop the attack from happening and the arrogant were not responding graciously.

  Mak’to’ran knew he was in a horrible position. If he pulled his fleets back to fight Itaru then the Hadarak would roam free and disaster would follow. If he didn’t, then many systems would fall and the industrial strength that was currently sustaining the V’kit’no’sat would be badly wounded. Most of the heavily industrious worlds in the empire were in the possession of Itaru, leaving him with far less to work with in regards to building new ships. The combined fleet he now commanded was massive, but the ability to replace the losses was a huge weakness without Itaru and its ilk and the arrogant knew it. A strike against what industrial strength they had would be crippling…leaving Mak’to’ran with a no-win scenario.

  But that wasn’t what was happening, for at the end of Hamob’s lengthy explanation he realized he was only requesting that Mak’to’ran return…not the fleet. He said there was a huge opportunity here but time was limited and
that Mak’to’ran must return now.

  Had it been anyone other than Hamob he never would have left the current battle in this condition, for they were losing so many V’kit’no’sat in necessary combat that it felt wrong to leave, but he knew this was strategically essential and said as much when he quickly contacted his senior commanders. As soon as they heard of an impending strike by the treasonous Itaru faction they gave him no argument when he said he had to leave but was keeping the rest of the fleet here to fight. He was thankful for that and got underway immediately, taking only his own Kafcha.

  For while V’kit’no’sat were fighting and dying here, he wasn’t going to waste one hour elsewhere…let alone in transit as he headed for the rendezvous point Hamob had suggested and Mak’to’ran confirmed in the message he sent that would arrive long before his ship did.

  Updates intercepted him through the Urrtren on his journey back, with him seeing more and more fighting going on in Itaru along with the ultimate request for Mak’to’ran to go there. That request hadn’t come from Hamob or anyone else in the reforged V’kit’no’sat, but from those in Itaru itself. Hamob told him he’d guessed something like this was going to happen, which was why he’d asked Mak’to’ran to come back immediately.

  Both Era’tran traveled onboard the same Kafcha as a small but formidable fleet escorted them around the galactic spiral, through enemy territory all the way to the V’kit’no’sat capitol system. Mak’to’ran expected a huge fleet waiting for them on arrival, but there was nothing aside from a handful of ships in stellar orbit as his fleet came out of their jump against the smaller of the system’s two central stars.

  Only then did the updates follow and Mak’to’ran realized that those in Itaru had been censoring the information.

  “What is this?” he asked, with Hamob stepping up beside him on the command deck.